What I Need

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Megan POV

Laying down in bed on top of Beyoncé with my head smothering her breasts, she told me all about her employee, Tamia, and how she came onto her. I feel so disrespected by that little girl. It's one thing to come onto your boss and not know if she's in a relationship or not, but it's another thing to cross a line with your boss with sexually motivated actions, like smelling her hands after she masturbated, then basically say 'I don't give a fuck about your relationship', when your boss tells you she's engaged.

I'm not a jealous person and in this instance, I wouldn't say that I am jealous, but I want this little Tamia character handled. I trust Beyoncé and I know where her heart is, so there's no need for me to be jealous over a bitch who doesn't have a chance anyway.

"You mad baby?" She asked, rubbing on my ass while her arm was wrapped around my lower waist.

"I feel disrespected, not that it's your fault, but by that girl. All I'm going to say is, handle her Beyoncé, handle her. Just..handle her Bey. I don't fight over my significant other if I don't need to, but if she becomes a serious threat to you and our family, I'll be forced to handle her and you don't want that baby." I spoke truthfully.

"I love you Megan, you know that right?" She questioned.

"With every fiber in me, I know that shit. I knew that when you threw my damn phone." I chuckled.

Bey sighed. "Please don't bring that up, god. It made me look so crazy. I don't act like that, that's not me, babe."

"I know. I learned that." I reassured her. "But you still have a mild crazy, jealous streak inside of you that's waiting to burst out."

"No, it's not." She laughed, slapping my ass cheek. "It's hidden deep, deep, deep down inside me. It only comes out when I'm severely triggered, like with Lauren."

I rolled my eyes at the sound of her name. Ugh, I still can't believe that crazy ass woman. I was about to tell Bey I was going to sleep, but I heard small footsteps patter across the carpeted floor in the hallway.

"Zari?" I spoke.

"Yes mommy." I heard her small voice say.

"Aww baby, come in here, don't stand out in the dark hallway." Bey encouraged her.

"Yeah, what are you doing up?" I asked, sitting up in the bed on my knees and holding my arms out for her.

She ran into our room and rushed to the edge of the bed. I picked her up and placed her on my hip as I maneuvered my way in the bed and sat against the headboard. Putting her in my lap, I noticed she was crying and I held her tight.

"Zari baby, what's wrong?" Bey asked. "You had a bad dream?"

"Yes."

"It's okay, don't cry. We're here." I spoke into her hair. She snuggled into my breasts and I rocked her as Bey wiped away her tears and kissed her face.

This is one of the very important reasons why Bey and I keep our bedroom door open. The only time it's closed is when we're having sex and when we're done we open it, because at any point the kids could have a nightmare and might want to come in our room to sleep with us to feel protected. If the door is closed, I feel as if we're closing our children off and our children might not feel as confident to want to come to us and they might even feel like a burden by knocking on our closed door. I want all of our children to have access to us at any given moment, no matter the situation. And if there's an emergency, our door should be open so we are alerted of the problem and we can protect our kids.

"You're safe now Zari." Bey cooed. Just as we were about to lay down together, we heard Cadence cries, and because she shares a room with Egypt, Egypt is going to now wake up cranky and crying; which means all the kids will be having a sleepover in mommy's bed.